A Friend in Need
by fourpawsonthefloor
Summary: What my version of what could have happened after abjectiveless 205 to Gambit. I’m sure it will differ largely from canon. It’s got SPOILERS so warning here.
1. Chapter 1

Title: A friend in need...

Author: Paws (fourpawsonthefloor)

Archive: Feel free to - just let me know where it is so I can update/pat it from time to time.

Summary: What my version of what could have happened after abjectiveless 205. I'm sure it will differ largely from canon. It's got SPOILERS so warning here.

Rating: At the moment PG-13, for some violence and gore. It may go up. I will warn the pants off of you if that is the case.

Pairings: Though I'm not offering any guarantees, it will probably end up a Remy/Ororo, cause I've always wanted to do an OreO. There will be explanation if it does. If it doesn't fit right it won't happen. I'm not one to toss two people together unless it works, at least for me. If you don't like the pairing, fair enough.

Characters: Mainly Gambit, though for obvious reasons there's a bunch of Storm in there too, as well as several other 'regulars'. If I seem too harsh on a character at the start, I'm not demonizing them, I promise. It's just how I feel that they'd react, given the situation.

Author Notes: Warning for SPOILERS. Cannot warn you enough of this. I also have written this while having a (over three week straight so far) migraine. So forgive me if I've blown anything. I love constructive critique, so feel free to dish it.

Disclaimer: I do this to have fun. Marvel owns these guys, so I won't be ever making a cent off of them. I kinda prefer it that way, cause then I can just have fun.

CHAPTER ONE:

The wind whipped through the cables rattling them together like dead and dried bamboo stalks. It made him smile slightly, even as he watched the shallow ripples that it made in the ever spreading pool of blood in front of his face. His limbs were leaden, and he'd given up trying to get up minutes ago. At first he'd been surprised when Logan had just left him after getting what he wanted. Upon reflection he supposed that he couldn't be bothered to finish a dying man. Why do a job that will be done for you? He sighed, painfully, coughing a bit, tasting the bright tang of blood on his tongue.

"Y' get them, Stormy." He breathed out and let his eyes drift shut.

The battle had become pitched a lot quicker than she'd expected, and in the opposite direction that they'd hoped for, despite being outnumbered as they were. Even with the power that she unleashed amongst them all, she was having a hard time holding them off. She turned to Angel, who was grounded out of necessity. "Get Colossus up. We've got to get out of here now. It's only a matter of time before Sinister overcomes us with Emma's shielding down." She spared a look around as she sent a bolt of lightning spidering in front of her, lacking the time to take more precise aim at anyone. "Have you got any idea where Kurt took Logan?"

Warren kept one arm up, shielding his eyes from the debris that was whipped up. "No. I think they'd have to go outside though – he couldn't risk teleporting blind in a place he doesn't know, and they aren't in the room." He half shouted, in order to be heard over the winds. He knelt, shaking the prone man in front of him roughly, glad when he stirred. A smaller man he may be able to handle, but he doubted they could so much as budge him in this form.

"Get back. There is no point in continuing this fight; I can barely hold them back as it is." She felt strong regret at not having gotten Rogue out, or the baby, but she had been an x-man too long to continue to waste time in a pointless venture. All it would do is get her or her teammates seriously hurt or killed. Well, more than they were already. "We have to reach the jet, and reach Emma by radio if we can't re-establish the telepathic link. Hopefully she can pinpoint where they ended up. "

Piotr was able to pick himself up with a helping hand from Warren, the two of them fighting to stay afoot in the power of the winds, even as she kept the majority of them out front. A shock wave blast nearly caught her unaware as she watched to make sure that Piotr was ok. Cursing at her inattention, she threw herself to one side to avoid it. Rolling up into a kneeling position, she sent lightning at Arclight, grimacing as she realized that the palm of one hand was bright red with blood. Sparing a glance over she realized the source was a slumped figure a few feet from her, half hidden in some shadows and wires. When she could spare another moment to take more than a glance, she realized that it wasn't Kurt or Logan, but that did little to ease her.

"Oh bright Goddess." The amount of blood pooled beneath him made her wonder if he was even alive. His eyes were bare slivers, not fully closed but still unseeing, his mouth slack. So many conflicting emotions ran through her, but no matter what he had done, she still couldn't turn from him. "Warren! I need your help!"

He turned back, questions written across his handsome face, as he fought to keep his wings tucked against him in the maelstrom.

"I can't carry him." She gestured at the prone figure. "You and Pio..." She was cut off by his snarl.

"Leave him here. He's made his choices." Warren had already turned back.

"You know I cannot!" She sent another focused gust at the nearest marauder. "If you will not help, then I must. I will not leave him here."

"You can't honestly be thinking about jeopardizing yourself for this traitor! I may have tolerated him after Antarctica, but I think that siding against us with both Apocalypse and Sinister would be enough to see where his true nature lies." Warren was fuming now, a face that she knew well.

She was spared when Piotr turned back, and pushed the cables aside reaching out for Gambit.

Warren turned his attention off her, but she could still hear him arguing even as they continued backing up, but her main focus had to be on the ones in front of her.

"This is crazy! We're getting wasted down here and we're going to risk being captured or killed for him?" Warren paused for a significant moment. "Or for his body!"

"It is her choice, and she will jeopardise herself if I do not. We will take him." Piotr's voice rumbled through, pragmatic as he often was, and she thanked him for it, even as her heart bled to match the stain still on her hand.

There was another large blast that broke off chunks of the ceiling above them, peppering them with bits of metal and concrete. She dimly could hear snatches of what Sinister was yelling at his team, something rather uncomplimentary by the sounds of it, involving the idiocy of bringing the whole complex down on all of them. The less than unified front gave her the gap that she had been looking for, and she turned to run.

Warren led the way up the ramp, firing up the engines and starting to close the ramp as she followed Piotr up it. She had no time to pause as he knelt down, laying the body to the floor of the jet. She was tossed in her seat as the jet was rocked by a blast. "Radio Emma. I'll take us up." She commanded Warren, flipping switches with desperation, knowing that they wouldn't be able to withstand much longer of the beating that they were taking from outside. Warren was helping as much as he could with readying the jet, even as he talked with Scott over the com.

With a shuddering groan, the blackbird finally lifted, the rending screech of large chunks of debris sliding off her hull making her teeth grit, and hope that nothing was punctured or vitally damaged.

"Emma says that they are about a mile east. She says that we have to hurry."

"I am hurrying." She snapped out uncharacteristically. Taking a deep breath, she nodded to Warren as she turned the nose of the jet in the right direction. "Can she tell us when we're over them?"

"Yes." He paused for the moments that it took to fly out. "Here. She says take it down here."

She did so, hoping that she wasn't burying them in the back drifts of snow that were kicked up as she set it down. "Where are they?"

Warren was already up out of his seat, a somewhat glazed look over his face as he stumbled to the rear. After this many years, she recognised the look of someone having an internal conversation well.

'Quite so'. The carefully modulated British tones of Emma slid across her inner ear. 'You merely had to get out of the range of Sinister for me to pick you up again.'

'What happened? I thought that you were supposed to keep him from having contact in the first place?' She touched Piotr's shoulder, her gaze carefully avoiding the figure on the floor, stilling the air before them all as she stepped off of the plane, her eyes seeking darker forms against the stark white.

'You are really feeling entirely too catty for someone in your position, Storm.' A small pause. 'They are about one hundred feet ahead. It wouldn't do for me to set you right on top of them now, would it? As for the rest of it, there were some unforeseen complications. We are dealing with it. I cannot imagine how you all managed to survive without my support this long, if this is how your missions went.'

She didn't bother sending an acknowledgement back, instead surging ahead. Warren was the first to reach them, bending over Kurt as Piotr took Logan. She let out a slight gasp at the spreading pink of the snow under Kurt, and Logan...she couldn't remember many times that she'd seen him this injured. 'We'll need medical help.'

'I'm aware of the situation. I'm already spiking their adrenaline centers.' A sense of irritation flowed along their connection. 'Just bring them in quickly. You haven't much time.'

The men had already picked up their burdens, Warren cradling Kurt as Piotr slung one of Wolverine's arms over his shoulder, the tall Russian while still looking somewhat unsteady himself. She tore her cape off, pressing it to the wound on Kurt's shoulder even as she walked beside Warren. "There has been too much blood-shed today and it was all for nothing. Sinister still has Rogue and the child."

"No, he doesn't." Logan's voice - harsher than usual - cut through her train of thought. "At least not the kid. Cable's got her."

"Nathan?" She spared him a glance, balling up more of her cloak to press more of it over the already saturated bit of cloth. "But I thought he was supposed to be dead?"

"You of all people should know that no one around here stays dead darlin', especially not someone of that stock." He rasped out, his boots rattling unevenly up the ramp behind her and Warren. A low growl brought her eyes back to meet his again. "Do you want to explain why there's a half dead crawfish on board?"

"He's alive?" She thought that Warren had said something about a body – she'd buried her grief, and gone on with what was necessary, feeling at least she could give him a decent burial rather than having him end up on a dissection table.

"Not for long. It's not a mistake that I'm planning on making twice." She could hear the snick of his claws releasing, even though she knew that he had to be in great pain with his healing factor disabled.

"No Logan." She left Kurt to the care of Piotr, moving to block the two remaining men. She stared him down for a long moment, the burnt and blistered skin of his body adding to the frightfulness of his expression. She held her place though, her face immobile.

"If you don't want to watch me gut him, fine. But toss him outside to rot with the rest of them. He's made his choices 'Ro, and they weren't to stick by us."

She took another step forward. "He is my..." She was going to say brother, but was he anymore? She didn't know what she felt. Remy had stood by her, been her closest confidant for so many years, but he'd not even spoke to her before he'd left for Apocalypse. Just the fact that he'd left willingly...it was all too confusing. Then to rejoin the marauders, after everything that he'd gone through for that – everything he'd done in the past with them.

'Well isn't this nice. Shall I pour you all a cup of tea for your chat? Would you like earl grey or orange pekoe? Cream? No? ' Sarcasm dripped from each syllable. 'I'm currently trying every neuro-chemical trick that I have up my sleeve to keep Nightcrawler from bleeding out from that wound in his shoulder. I suggest that you do not further test my skills, even as a gesture of faith in my competence.'

Logan's gaze slid past her to Kurt as she looked to Warren with a command to start taking them up. She turned back to one of her best friends in the mansion. "We don't have time for this Logan."

"Fine. " The word was ground out, more a snarl than not. "Doubt he'll make it anyway."

She breathed in a sharp breath of relief, watching as Logan settled beside Piotr, ignoring his own pain to start field dressing Kurt's shoulder. The jet shook as they lifted off, a long line of blood trailing down the floor as the nose was pointed upwards, Warren fighting to gain them as much altitude quickly as he could to avoid more conflict with the marauders. The air was thick with it; Kurt moaning slightly as Logan packed gauze into his wound.

So it was left to her then to save Gambit, if she could.

Retrieving the other med kit, she knelt beside the still and pale form, rolling him over as she stripped his coat from him best as she could. The fabric of his Kevlar was soaked, and gave unpleasant sucking noises as she cut it off of him. What could stop bullets hadn't come close to stopping the three neat holes that pierced his chest through, frothy bubbles rising from the topmost wound as he took shallow, barely visible breaths. His lung is punctured: her training supplied as she watched the bubbles, even as she realized there was no way that it couldn't be with the placement of the wounds. Tearing open the package of gauze she paused one long moment as her hand hovered over his labouring chest. Am I just being selfish in trying to save him?

She pressed her hand resolutely downwards, ripping another package open with the help of her teeth as she continued to apply pressure with the other. What reason she was doing it for didn't matter. She had to try.


	2. Chapter 2

This situation was more familiar than he cared for. How many times had he done this, waded up from unconsciousness to find his body somehow intact and breathing despite all odds? The pain in his side was fierce, and upon further assessment he could feel a myriad of tubes leading into him. It took a while for him to remember what had landed him in this position this time. Right. Logan. Merde. He didnt' think the guy would actually run him through. Rough him up, sure. That was a mistake he didn't intend to repeat.

God only knew what Sinister had done with him while he was out. The man was talented, he had to give him that, but he didn't have any scruples about implanting things or running tests without permission. The only way to combat that was to stay conscious, and in his good graces. The word ally wasn't really in his vocabulary - if you failed him, he'd find other 'uses' for you. He shifted, realizing with sudden sinking clarity, that the immobility in his limbs was only partially due to his weakness. He could feel padded restraints on his arms and legs holding him down.

His opened his eyes to the dim room, fingers scrambling for some purchase in them, trying to locate a vulnerability, as his eyes took in the multiple buckles that strapped him to the sides of the bed. He cursed inwardly. This was going to take time, and energy that he didn't know if he had.

The sound of a door being opened jerked him out of his reverie. Definitely time he didn't have. He braced himself for the inevitable, looking up. His eyes widened in sudden alarm. "Ororo?"

She hesitated only for a moment before crossing over to him, her face calm as usual, but the slight tightening of her lips bespoke a lot to him, in his long familiarity with her. He took in his surroundings fully, realizing he'd overlooked a crucial point. "Gambit." She replied in kind, but it lacked any of the warmth that in normally had. "How are you feeling?"

He struggled to sit up a little more in the bed, but they'd restrained him well, familiar with his talents. Of course that only left him with more questions. "Why am I here?"

"You'll pull the drain in your chest out, if you keep doing that. Henry left very specific instructions for you not to move." She stopped at the foot of the bed, looking like she didn't know what to do with her hands, waiting a long moment, searching his face as if looking for something. "You are here because we brought you back."

He fought the frustration, not wanting to snap at her. "But why? It wasn't your place." He jerked impotently at one wrist, the think plastic IV line swaying in answering sympathy. "Where's Xavier?"

Ororo's face hardened a little at that, and he knew that he'd said the wrong thing. "Would have you preferred that we left you to drown in your own blood?"

"You're avoidin' my questions, chere." He regretted the gulf that he could feel between him and the one person that he had always been able to count on.

Giving an irritated small sigh, she went to look at the instrumentation that patiently mapped out his vitals, rather than meeting his gaze. "Charles left a couple of days ago, while we were out on our mission. We aren't in contact with him currently, but we expect that he'll be back soon."

He shifted as much as he could, poorly disguising his irritation. "Y' still ain't answerin' me. What is it? Leaving me to die twice in Antarctica twice would have been too much for the morals of the x-men?" He regretted the words as soon as they were said, knowing that he was taking out his frustration at the situation on the person that deserved it the least. Still – what the hell was he supposed to do now that he had been taken here?

She had whipped around to face him. "That is not fair."

"I know it wasn't." Her face eased just slightly. Everything was so subtle with his Stormy. You wouldn't know how to read her if you didn't know her – it was how she often earned her reputation of being aloof and cold, when she was far from it. "Y' still should have left me there."

It was a few moments before she answered. "Perhaps you are right, but I had no assurances that you would have survived then."

"Maybe so." He glanced down at his chest, thick with bandages under the thin blanket. "Maybe no." He frowned with a thought. After that attack could hardly see Logan wanting to rescue him – the man was nothing if not single minded when he got down to a job. "What happened t' Wolverine?"

Ororo paused again, carefully considering her words. "He was injured by your colleagues, along with Kurt. Logan has made a full recovery, but Kurt is still being watched very carefully. He hasn't regained consciousness yet." She watched him carefully as she spoke, looking for some sort of reaction for him he figured. Something he couldn't give her, not when there was still a chance that this wasn't totally blown.

"So what now?" He lifted a wrist slightly again in illustration. "What's d' plan, since Xavier is gone? I just get to wait like a trussed up chicken till he comes wanderin' back?"

"You can hardly blame us for this." Oh, she could be cold when she meant it. "Scott will decide. He's been taking full command of the field, and in Xavier's absence, the rest of it also falls to him."

Merde. That could explain things. "He ordered y' t' attack the base then? Xavier didn't know about it?"

She looked at him, suspicion clear in her features. "Why does it matter, Gambit? Why are you asking me all these questions?"

He went for the deflection. "I can understand being judged by Scotty. Thing is, it's not really him that's wearin' the pants now, neh? And it's not like I've really gotten along best with Emma. Femme has a way of findin' me guilty."

"And you are not?" The silence drug out again, heavy and uncomfortable. He remembered the days where they could simply sit together and not talk for hours, relaxed and at ease with each other. Now, he felt every second of it like someone was laying weights on his chest.

"I should leave you to rest. I've kept you too long – your injuries were severe. You were lucky to survive."

He wanted to thank her for that – for what she'd done for him even with what she must think of him. But again the words were swallowed. "Ok. I'll be seein' y' around." His tone was flippant, and again he felt the sting of regret as she gave him one last long look on her way out the door. But that was his life. A long line of regrets.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you everyone for your kind reviews! They make my day!

Chapter three:

He had needed his rest after her visit, much to his disgust. He hated being injured or sick. Henry ended up waking him up from the nap coming in to tend to his wounds, changing the dressings in silence. He had kept quiet as well, not needing to have yet another pointless conversation. The rest of what he figured to be the afternoon was spent in silence interspersed with brief dozes that he wouldn't allow to be full naps. He wasn't at ease here in the infirmary normally and most certainly not now.

He could hear the faint drone of chatter as other visitors came and went, probably checking on Kurt. No one else came into his room though which he didn't regret. There were too many factors in this equation and most of them were not positive. He simply wanted to bide his time and avoid as many personal conflicts as he could. If he was going to make a move, tonight would be the time to do it.

Another brief catnap was interrupted by Ororo returning, this time with a bowl of soup. It smelt like heaven. He had been wondering if they were going to totally forget to feed him with the chaos of caring for Kurt and everything, but his pride had kept his mouth shut. He watched as she readied the tray and picked up the full spoon, leaning slightly over the bed.

"Y' have got t' be kiddin' me." He looked from the spoon to her face. "I don' even get a hand free t' feed myself?"

She simply moved it closer to his face. "Not at this time, no. You could potentially use it as a weapon, and no one was willing to take that chance."

"No one, eh? You on that list then?" He knew that he sounded bitter and that he shouldn't take it out on her, but the situation was humiliating.

"I was the only one willing to come feed you other than Henry and he's still busy with Kurt. He woke up about an hour ago."

Realizing that he needed the energy he'd get from the food and knowing full well just how stubborn his Stormy could be he swallowed his pride and reluctantly opened his mouth, swallowing the spoonful obediently. "That's good, neh? Kurt wakin' up an' all." He was relieved by the news, but tried not to show it too much, keeping his words carefully neutral.

"Yes, it is. He doesn't seem to have suffered any brain damage, which is thankful." She fed him a few more spoonfuls. "Henry will be taking over feeding you tomorrow. I have to return to the city tonight."

He nodded. "Suppose your husband will be missin' y'." His words were coloured with forced casualness. So much that he'd missed. He didn't know how he would have handled her marrying and leaving the x-men if he'd been around anyways, so perhaps it had worked out for the best.

Her brow puckered slightly. "I was not aware that you knew of my marriage."

"I was gone, chere. Not dead. It was in the papers and on TV. Woulda been hard to miss it." He softened his voice a bit, though it was hard to do. "I didn't get to wish y' well. I hope that y' are very happy with him." The spoon clinked on his teeth the next time, the soup upsetting to spill down his chin. He made a slight face. "Y' know...if y' want t' give that job up, I won't complain. Got two fully functionin' hands here."

A smile was teasing at the corner of her mouth despite herself. "Thank you, I think I can handle this. I was just distracted." She cleaned the mess up with a napkin. "And yes, we are very happy. I've been gone longer than we expected so I should really check in."

"Mais oui. Can't imagine he'd be very happy missin' his wife." The rest of the meal was spent in silence, but it had eased some at least, which he was glad for. They may be on opposite sides right now, but he had no desire for her to think of him with complete dislike. He didn't know if he could handle her hate. She said a brief goodbye and he grimly watched her go. Hopefully someday he'd have the chance to explain all this but in the meantime he sharply felt the loss of her. But he'd gone too far into this to back away from it now.

He'd noted that the noise had died down during the time that he'd eaten. Good – it would be soon then. No one would expect him to make a serious move this soon into his recovery knowing the extent of his injuries, which made it the perfect time. It was the only shot he'd likely get and weak or not, he was going to take it.

He was interrupted by his musings by Henry returning to his room looking somewhat unhappy; his ears laid slightly back, a deep crease in his brow visible even through the fur. At first he assumed that was because he didn't want to care for his sorry hide but when Henry pulled a syringe out of his pocket and reached for the IV port he was jerked out of his complacency. "What the hell is that?"

"A sedative." Henry wouldn't meet his eye as he injected it into the IV port. "I don't normally approve of sedating recovering patients unless necessary as it taxes their resources, but you are a special case I'm afraid."

He could think of many things to say about that but he didn't suppose than any of them were very fair to say to the man who'd just saved your life. Especially because Henry was well read enough to likely understand the Cajun slurs he'd toss in there. The drug was already creeping into his system, making him feel warm and his eyelids heavy. "Emma thinks of everythin' don't she, homme?"

"Just rest. They'll be down to speak to you tomorrow."

Like he had a choice in the matter. He would have given a bitter laugh, but the darkness rose up like a wave and washed him away in it.

Merde, he hated drugs. What he _did_ like about them was they didn't work the same for him as they did most others. The good thing about his paranoia of the lab and his tendency to just hole up in his room to heal on his own was that Henry hadn't gotten to see how he reacted to them. What he was sure was a dose meant to knock him out till dawn lasted only about half that. Sinister knew of that glitch in his physiology, of course. It had been how he'd personally discovered it - by waking up in the middle of a procedure. Not the most pleasant way to find out. Mind you Essex hadn't been exactly bounding with joy over it either – he'd been the one confronted by a groggy but definitely conscious and vastly unhappy Cajun.

There was still enough of the drug in his system to make him feel dizzy and nauseous which just added to the joy of working his way through the buckles binding him to the bed. Once he'd freed one hand, the rest was a cakewalk. Removing the chest tube was a little less so, but he managed.

Stealing down the hall, he swiped a pair of scrub bottoms out of a cabinet. They were Henry's, which meant they were huge but the drawstring waist cinched it in adequately and it beat the shit out of escaping with his ass hanging out of a gown. He may not have much dignity left, but he was going to cling to every last shred of it.

Eschewing the main door, knowing that area of the lab was covered with cameras, he headed for the nearest vent easily popping the cover off with the aid of a filched instrument. He cursed every wiggle and twist that he had to make in the tight confines of the metal tubing, glad that he'd taken a few minutes to slap on a quick thick bandage over the wound left by the drain. He could feel the gauze pads getting warm and heavy, knowing without needing to check that he had to be bleeding again. He supposed it was a good damn thing that he was getting out of there, because Henry would have his hide. Nothing pissed that man off like you undoing his hard work.

That only left the elevator and from there a quick hop, skip and a jump to freedom, such as it was. He peeked out of the vent, carefully watching the one camera rotate back and forth; timing it again just to be sure it was on the same schedule as before. He was going to have to do this quickly or he was good as caught because there was no way he'd be able to face a group of them in this condition. He waited till the camera was on its way to the outermost of its rotation before dropping lightly to the floor, fingers tapping quickly over the keys on the console at the wall next to the elevator. It beeped softly in acknowledgement and the doors to the elevator slid open, allowing him to slip in and close them just before the camera turned back. He sighed in relief; his eyes turning to watch the camera in the elevator which he knew would now be playing a pre-recorded clip for the time it took him to get upstairs. Nice to know not _everything_ had changed on him. It had gotten complex enough already.

He rode the elevator all the way to the top, knowing the student dormitories were the easiest route out providing no one was up for a late night jaunt. Even if they were, chances were that he could surprise them and get past without too much trouble. However fate smiled on him again – when he cautiously looked out of the elevator it was to a silent empty hallway. He typed in another code from the safe haven of the elevator's keypad to deactivate the cameras along his chosen path and left it, making his way swiftly down the hall. By the time anyone caught the camera errors, he'd be long gone.

After that it was a quick matter of slipping out the window and down the wall which normally wouldn't be an issue but at the moment left him slightly shaky. He pressed a hand to his side swearing softly as he felt the sticky wet fabric of his gown. Taking a moment for a quick assessment he decided it wasn't that bad. All he had left is to vault over the wall on the north side where that convenient blind spot lay waiting for him and he could wire a car, pick up some decent clothes and get a few medical supplies. He kept low out of caution as he crept along in the shadows but by now his escape was a foregone conclusion. His mind turned to other matters – mainly of what to tell Sinister. Would he believe him when he said that it wasn't his idea to return to the x-men? Or was he going to quickly become the next bug under the magnifying glass, again? He knew that he was already on shaky ground with him since the re-emergence of Cable, who he'd reported as dead. He'd just have to play his cards right and take the gamble. It was a game he'd been playing for a very long time.

Arriving at the wall he reached his hands up, preparing to vault over it when a low growl froze him where he was. Well merde. He thought this had been too easy.


	4. Chapter 4

He let his arms drop, slowly turning around. Putting on one of his wide cocky grins he leaned back against the wall in a show of casualness. "Hey Wolvie." Logan's reply to that was pretty standard, claws extending. "So...don't suppose you'd just let me go, neh? I'll be out of your hair in a jiffy."

"And let you go back to attacking us, or helping sinister get that kid? Don't think so Cajun. I should have finished you back in Antarctica. I don't intend to make the same mistake this time."

Sighing dramatically, he hoped that he could maintain the strength to keep the ruse up. Always wear the mask, never let them know what you are really thinking or feeling – a lesson he'd learned early on that had served him well. Dieu, but he wanted to sit down. Lay down preferably. "Dunno what it is about me an' Antarctica. Y' people keep tryin' to kill me there." He caught the brief pause in the low rumbling growl. He knew that Logan had not approved of the whole 'trial' and hoped that it would make him a little less reluctant to attack.

Wolverine would do anything to keep the rest of his 'pack' safe. As much as he may argue with Scott or the rest of them at times, Logan was damn loyal when it came down to it. Things were quite simple really. Eat, sleep - look after your own. He supposed in Logan's case, beer deserved its own category in there too. The problem was Logan didn't consider him part of them anymore and that meant all bets were off.

He stepped to one side, edging away from the wall, not wanting to get pinned against it. Logan moved to cut him off again so he paused, quickly scanning the area and locking it in his memory. "I don't want t' hurt nobody. Jus' let me go."

"Hurt me? Don't think you have to worry about that, bub." He cursed inwardly as Logan's nostrils flared, knowing that he could tell that he was bleeding. Hell, he could probably scent the small amount of stress sweat that was breaking out between his shoulder blades. "We can do this hard, or easy. I'd rather not kill you by carving off chunks at a time. You couldn't beat me back at Sinister's base and you sure as hell aren't gonna now."

He stalled for a minute longer, taking one final step to the left. "One thing you ain't countin' on Wolvie." The words were sassy and drawled out, designed to disguise his misgivings at this. "I was holdin' back there. Now I know that I can't afford that. Y' heal, mon ami. I don't." He tossed himself to roll up along the leaf litter on the ground, coming up in a crouch with a long sturdy stick to one hand and a handful of rocks in the other, holding back a curse as the move jarred his wounds harshly, but at least he was armed and that much further away from Logan. "Now I'm gonna back up, an' just head on outta here. I don't wanna do this anymore tha..."

He didn't get a chance to finish, Logan taking the simple expedient conclusion to the conversation by launching himself in his direction. Charging the pebbles he had in his hand, he tossed them at the ground right in front of Logan, using the momentary confusion to launch himself in a leap over the smaller man. As he came out of the neat forward roll on the way down he swung the stick in a backhand with all the strength that he had. It cracked loudly across the back of Logan's head, opening up a large gash that started to bleed profusely. Unfortunately the stick also split into two uneven pieces leaving him with only about a foot of it in his hand. He rapidly back pedalled, getting more into open ground as Logan turned back, the snarl on his lips totally unnecessary to let him know that he had mainly just succeeded in pissing him off.

"Jus' great." He muttered under his breath. This would have to go quick or there was no way he could win this. Which really did mean no holds barred; something that didn't sit right with him still, but there wasn't a choice. He managed to avoid the next rush with a twist, but caught a bit of the back swipe on his shoulder, the thin cotton of the gown offering absolutely no shielding. He rolled it as they circled to test his remaining mobility. Thankfully it didn't feel that bad, despite the wetness running down his back.

He didn't wait for Logan this time, moving in a whirl, using the small stub of his stick to skilfully deflect the claws – meet them full on and all he'd have in his hand would be kindling. _If_ he had a hand left at that point. He kicked up high, aiming for a vulnerable spot in the head but he'd forgotten about the adamantium coating Logan's skull as well as his claws. He grunted, unable to completely stop from voicing his pained surprise. Breathing heavily, he circled to the left trying to walk the limp out.

Logan left him very little recovery time, lunging when he faltered slightly. Given little choice at this close of range and with no other weapon to hand he charged the reminder of the stick. Tossing it at Logan he ducked out of the way as best as he could before both of them tossed backwards by the explosion.

Logan was tough, he'd give him that. He'd not met many, if any, that could function as wounded as he was. No noise came out of him but that steady unsettling growl as they both clambered to their feet, despite the ruin of the left side of his face. It had rattled him though – he was being more careful and taking his time. Merde. Which left him where he was – wondering how in the hell he was supposed to keep upright. Great plan LeBeau.

Logan certainly seemed to expect him to falter soon – he was inspecting him like a cougar would a wounded deer. This was it – it was do or die. The next time that Logan lunged, he twisted again but grunted hard like Logan had caught his flesh as well as the wad of gown. It was a risk, Logan would know that he wasn't really injured within seconds, but he was counting on his feral rage to carry him through for just a moment. Logan went to follow through with the other hand, certain that he had him. Grasping Logan's wrist for leverage he used his forward momentum against him; spinning off of the burly shoulder, glad for the height difference that made it relatively easy. On his way over he clapped a hand to Logan's jeans, the charge spreading quickly. It was hitting below the belt in a spectacular way and something that he was relatively certain would have him up at the top of Logan's shit list, but he didn't have a choice.

He found out that there actually was a way to get Logan to howl.

Not wasting the preciously small opening he had, he picked up a good sized rock and brought it down hard a few times over Logan's temple as he lay, his lower half in smouldering ruin. Metal or no, you could still rattle his melon if you tried hard enough. Backing away from the badly wounded man, he was just thankful to have only a handful of cuts and a few embedded splinters from the stick's explosion to show for the fight. Anything more injurious and he wouldn't have been able to get five feet. Stumbling slightly he headed for the wall as fast as he could, clumsily vaulting over it. He hoped that he could get far enough fast enough before either Logan recovered or someone noticed that things were amiss.

He'd gotten nearly a quarter mile before a car's headlights showed up in the distance and he paused, knowing that his silhouette would have been spotted by now and that ducking into the brush would just attract attention. He would have been tempted to hitch a ride, but he was pretty sure that a half bloodied man in hospital wear wouldn't have a chance. The best he could do is step a little further off the road and keep his head down and appearance casual, hoping that the driver wouldn't be very vigilant and would overlook him.

It appeared his luck had run out though when the car braked sharply. He turned and bent, scooping up a handful of gravel, before he stood again to look warily at the car, his eyes dazzled by the beams. When the man exited the car and moved around so that he could see his face, he tensed, watching Xavier warily.

Charles' brow was creased as he stared at him, probably trying to make sense of the figure he posed. In warning he raised a hand, letting the charge trickle into a pebble that he held between his thumb and finger, the remainder cradled in his other hand, held at the ready.

Charles held out a steady hand in a consolatory matter. "Time and tide wait for no man."

The air went out of him in a rush as he squatted and then fell back to sit heavily on the side of the roadway, letting the rocks trickle out of the palm of his hand. He chuckled quietly, the movement of it hurting him but unable to stop. "Y' couldn't tell me dat about half an hour ago, hein?" He nodded back in the direction of the school. "D' Wolverine is gonna want to take my hide off an' make new pants outta it." His drawl was heavy, showing his extreme fatigue.

Xavier knelt down beside him. "I will deal with Logan. Perhaps you could start by explaining what has occurred in my absence?"

"Sure. I'll get right on dat." He gave a rich snort which just ended up accentuating the noise of his pulse as it hammered in his ears. He opened his mouth to start to explain, but before he could get even a syllable out the world flipped upside-down and into black.


	5. Chapter 5

He had called for help after he'd settled the unconscious Gambit down. The man was bleeding from several spots and was quite pale. When he got through he'd found the place was in an uproar – Remy's disappearance having just been discovered. Scott and Henry had come to assist him - after Scott had sent Bobby and Sam after Logan with strict instructions to keep him away, even if Sam had to blast him a few miles into the woods so that his walk back gave them some time.

So they'd bundled Remy up and into the back of a van, Hank muttering away about the folly of patients not listening to their doctor. Scott had shot him pointed looks the whole time but waited until they'd left Hank working industriously away on Remy in the infirmary. "Ok. So do you want to explain to me what the hell is going on and how you managed to catch him?" Scott glanced up from his scrubbing at a small bloodstain left on his shirt. They'd defeated alien races, cured plagues and done other extraordinary things. You'd think they would have found fabrics that wouldn't take a stain by now.

Sighing, he looked at Scott tiredly. The increasing conflict and tension between him and the man that he'd always thought of as a son was both troubling on a personal level to him and also wasn't what they needed now as a team. "I didn't capture him. He's not our enemy Scott."

Scott's lips tightened. "Then what the hell is he? We captured him when I sent the team after Sinister. He put up a fight then, and according to you he's left Logan injured somewhere out on the grounds. That sure as hell sounds like an enemy to me."

"I know what it all seems like. But he was doing all of that under orders." Scott's cheekbones flushed in sudden anger, but he was too controlled to react other than that. Reaching the planning room he opened the door, waving Scott in. "And yes, they were my orders. But I think we should call the rest of the senior team in before I explain things."

"You went behind my back. _Again_. How many times do we have to do this? How am I supposed to lead the team when I don't even know what we're dealing with?"

"Scott, I..." He was cut off by a sharp chopping wave of Scott's hand.

"Forget it. We'll do this later." He moved to the com system and made the calls, pointedly refusing to meet his eyes.

He settled himself in a chair, watching as Scott did the same, feeling the gulf between them widen that much more. It took a while for the whole group to trickling in, yawning and sleepy eyed, doubly so since many of them had just been awoken for the second time that night. Emma arrived first and sat across from him, beside Scott, engaging in silent conversation with Scott, her eyes sliding contemplatively towards him from time to time. Sam and Bobby - escorting a somewhat dishevelled looking but relatively healed and calm Logan - were the last to enter. Thankfully they seemed to have stopped to grab some new clothes for Logan first.

Logan flopped into a seat, settling his eyes on him. "So what's up Chuck? I'm giving you five minutes and then I'm heading down to the med lab. I can smell his stink all over here."

"That won't be necessary, Logan. I assure you that Gambit is of no threat to this team."

"He's a mole." Scott didn't look at all abashed when he looked to him and raised a brow at the interruption. "Right? There's no other explanation for this."

He folded his hands in front of him on the table. "Yes. We needed someone on the inside. It also needed to be believable. Out of everyone, Gambit was the most likely to succeed at infiltrating Apocalypse's base. Sinister came after - I gave him autonomy to follow things out as he saw fit, which he did."

Several of the people seated looked surprised, however Emma and Scott didn't betraying anything as they sat calmly, studying him. Scott's earlier flash of anger was well buried at the moment but he would have loved to know what the two of them were saying to each other. Logan was unruffled as usual, but his forehead creased slightly as he obviously went through the process of reordering of some of his previous assessments.

"These are troubling times as we all know. Losing nearly the entire population of mutants has put us in a position where we cannot afford not to take any advantage offered to us."

Sam leaned forward. "So that's why he blew the diaries to bits then instead of me? I mean, he toasted me good, but it could make sense 'cause I was nearly on top of them. That other guy – Scalphunter – he was plenty pissed that Gambit had done that. I don't remember all of it but I caught a bit of them arguin'."

"I believe so. Remy has always worked well on his own – making quick decisions as he saw fit. I regret the loss of those diaries, but it was preferable that they were destroyed rather than having Sinister get a hold of them. I needed someone in the field who wasn't afraid to make those types of choices. We couldn't risk having him in contact with us."

"So you gave him full control?" Logan gave him a sardonic look. "That's pretty balsy Chuck."

"He tried to kill Rogue and he hurt Sam pretty bad – we didn't even know if he'd come out of the coma. Heck, they still have Rogue and only God knows what they are doing with her. You're telling me that was part of the plan?" Bobby blurted out, he and several others looking between him and Scott. The division between the two of them was becoming more and more obvious, with both him and Scott making decisions without the other. Once they worked as a team, with a clear leadership. Now...things were a lot less certain. He felt the weight of his decisions once again - ideas that seemed so clear at one point quickly muddied with time. He should realize after all these years that would be the case. Still, what was done was done.

Emma placed one white gloved hand on top of Scott's as she readied herself to speak. She'd be one of the things that he'd not counted on with Jean's death, and one he was finding to only be a further dividing force between himself and Scott. Laying his own hands on the familiar polished wood of the table, remembering all the times that he'd sat here, he realized that more had changed over the years than remained the same. It was a sobering thought.

This was going to be a long night.

Something fuzzy was tickling his nose. He sneezed and opened his eyes, blinking rapidly as his field of vision was nearly entirely taken up by a field of blue and white.

"Oh my pardon." The rest of the room swam into focus as Henry backed away. "I didn't realize you were conscious. I was just changing the IV bag."

Remy rubbed industriously at his nose. "The ticklin' woke me up."

"Ah. Yes. I'm afraid that I've been a bit nonplussed lately and as a consequence..." He offered a tissue box. "Well...I've been shedding."

He realized somewhat belatedly that his hand was free, smiling slightly as he reached for the tissue. "Merci."

Hank's ears twitched and he glanced away clearing his throat. "I am truly sorry for your treatment here earlier Remy. We had no way of knowing..."

Blowing his nose, he shook his head. "Don't matter. As y' said y' didn't know."

"Well that may be true, yes...but I'm still not happy with how I..."

"Henri." He interrupted. "It's ok. Don't get all worked up about it. Y' patched me up twice in the last day – I think that counts for somethin'."

He got a bit of a look at that. "Since you are bringing that up, what possessed you to remove your chest tube? I didn't replace it because your chest injury has recovered sufficiently to make do without it, but your recovery may be harder than if you'd left it be for a while longer."

"Y' do what y' gotta do." He laid his head back, tired. "Xavier explained everythin' I'm takin' it?"

" Yes, he did." Hank fiddled with some equipment, taking his time before finally meeting his eye again. "I think it may take some time for people to adjust though. While everyone now realizes that you did this for the benefit of the team, there were a lot of ill feelings with your 'defection' that they will have to sort through."

"What else is new?" He smiled slightly, but there was no joy in it, just a simple protective reflex. "How's Kurt doing?"

Luckily Hank leapt on his distraction. "He's alright. I expect him to make a full, if slow, recovery. He was remarkably lucky. As were you."

Which reminded him. "Does 'Ro know?"

Henry blinked at him. "No. Actually we didn't even consider that." He glanced at his watch. "It's 8 am. I can arrange for someone to contact her."

He finally took in how tired Henry looked, and felt a slight pang of guilt. He'd obviously not stopped for much if anything. "It'll keep. Y' should get some rest first. Y' look like somethin' the cat drug in." He managed a small chuckle, watching the way that Hank's ears swivelled at him. "Or maybe that's the wrong description."

"Quite." The deep rumbling voice was full of amusement. "I've got to check on a few more patients and then I will be having a rest. It's no trouble to ask someone else to call her. I don't wish to face her wrath if she is not informed in a prompt manner."

"Mmm. She's got her own life now, neh?" He picked idly at a bit of tape on his arm. "And what other patients?"

"She'll still want to know. She saved your life Remy." Hank looked even more tired than before. "Many of the younger students, I'm afraid. They attempted to break into a purifier stronghold without the senior staff's knowledge."

"Merde. That group is just plain crazy. Everyone make it?" Henry gave him a nod and he sighed. "I owe 'Ro many times over, for a lot of things." He laid back and closed his eyes. "I'm a bit tired, Henri. I'll be just fine. Go have a coffee or do whatever things y' need to."

He could hear Hank pause at the sudden dismissal but after a slight bit of shuffling as he gathered his things, he left, quietly shutting the door behind him. He opened his eyes again to stare at the ceiling – with the weight of having to keep the ruse up gone he had time to think. And that was never a state that he enjoyed finding himself in. Too many ghosts. Too many regrets.

And he wasn't even half done yet.


End file.
